


Rubbing One Out

by faeleverte



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, more fluff than you can imagine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 06:04:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1255615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faeleverte/pseuds/faeleverte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From outside the office, it sounds quite perverse. Screams of pleasure can be misleading -- to start with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rubbing One Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kathar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kathar/gifts).



> [Kathar](http://kat-har.tumblr.com) asked: write me a little ficlet-whatsit using a character/image/line I shall now specify:
> 
> "Right there. Harder." _(Because when have you known me NOT to instigate things?)_

“Oh, God!” Clint shouted, twisting his hands tighter into the fabric of the pillow under his palms. “There! Phil! Right there! Harder! Oh, God, PHILLIP!”

“Really, Barton.” Phil’s sigh was so deep that Clint could feel the breath ruffle the spikes of his hair. His body was shoved harder into the couch as Phil shifted his weight more heavily onto Clint’s hips. Thumbs dug into the hard muscle of his spine, and Clint groaned loudly. “Someone walking past the office will get the wrong idea.”

“If you knew…” Clint began, writhing slightly under the massage. Good. Warmth and relaxation, and, after the day he’d had, it was all just so good.

“Knew what, Barton?” A sharp dig of fingers into a knot on Clint’s shoulders led to a whimper of pain that shifted part way through to another deep moan of pleasure.

“Do you have to call me that? What’s wrong with ‘Clint?’” There was a definite thickness building in Clint’s crotch, and he fought to keep from rolling his hips against the seat cushions.

“We’re at work. In my office. We’ve talked about this.” Phil sounded like he was hiding a smile, and Clint really wanted to turn and look. The Phil Coulson Stifled Grin was one of his favorite expressions.

Goosebumps prickled along Clint’s skin as Phil leaned forward and stroked his fingertips lightly down from Clint’s shoulders to trace the dimples above Clint’s jeans.

“Sir, I’m like eighty percent naked on your couch with you straddling my ass — Oh fuuuuck, right there. Fuck yes! — and I can feel your cock against my crack.” Clint lifted his head to pop his neck and flopped it down facing the other direction. “I think we’ve already broken most of the rules on this one.”

He’d been tied up in a flooded basement, barely keeping his face out of the water for six damn hours. So cold. So stiff. Every muscle in his body ached. Had ached. Was feeling much better after a solid hour of Phil’s massaging and stroking, pummeling and pressing. Clint gave the pile of wet clothing huddled near the door a glare, but the clothing and the water seemed to be ignoring him. Clint shifted his shoulders and rolled his head back the other way.

Phil cleared his throat and slid off to stand on the floor beside the couch. Clint whined. It was much colder without Phil’s solid weight on top of him. Also much less erotic.

“You’re right, Barton,” Phil’s voice retreated across the room. Clint rolled his neck a third time to watch Phil’s suited ass cross the room. Cufflinks were dropped on the desk, followed by the tie. “This is not professional.”

“So you’re just going to leave me here, cold and sore?”

“Next time maybe you’ll think about staying a bit longer in medical.” Phil turned, leaning the backs of his thighs against the edge of the desk as he popped free the top three buttons on his shirt. Ohhhhmygod, Phil chest hair. “We have real massage therapists. You should let them work you over.”

“I’d rather you were still working me over right now,” Clint told him, trying to keep from sounding petulant. “It’s cold over here.”

“Maybe next time you’ll stick around down there for the heated blankets and some sweatpants.”

“Maybe next time,” Clint grumbled under his breath, “you’ll have more than just a pair of my boxers and a spare pair of your socks in your office for me to change into.”

Clint watched Phil’s grin shift from amused to predatory as he pushed himself away from the desk and walked to the door. The click of the lock seemed inordinately loud, and then Phil reached up to the box beside the door that overrode the surveillance on the office, pressing in the code.

“Maybe next time,” Phil countered, eyes dark as he turned back and stared at Clint’s naked back. He licked his lips once before he started for the couch with the loose stride of a hunting lion. “You’ll remember to turn off the cameras before you start disrobing, Clint.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the prompt, darling [Kathar](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kathar/pseuds/Kathar). I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> And with all love and deepest thanks to my beta, [Selana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Selana/pseuds/Selana) for the emergency edit so I could throw this up. 
> 
> Come follow along on [my Tumblr](http://faeleverte.tumblr.com) as I gripe about writing and reblog entirely too many pictures of bunnies and cats. And Phlint. And other Avengers. And Doctor Who, Sherlock, and Supernatural. And other crap that catches my attention for more than 30 seconds. Ask box is always open!
> 
> Thanks for reading, and, as always, I covet ( _COVET_ ) your kudos and comments.


End file.
